The Trickster's Queen
by hailcastiel
Summary: Loki is planning a scheme against Asgard to take the throne so that him and his wife may rule over the gods. But, in order to spark a revolution, there needs to be a match. Who better than the Trickster's Queen herself to start the fire?
1. Chapter 1

**Sigyn is the mythological Loki's wife. Her character is derived from the stories I found of her. **

* * *

Sigyn was her name; she was tall, lithe, elvish of face, and shockingly beautiful. She wore but only the finest animal furs upon her shoulder and the softest silk upon her breast. Her hair was copper and curled to the nape of her back. Her eyebrows arched gracefully, like her dainty nose and like her nearly full lips that caressed her pale face. Her cheekbones were high and soft, like her jaw. Her eyes were half-almond shaped; they held pale green orbs within them. They were gentle eyes; they didn't inflict fear on sight. No, they were the eyes of a kind woman – they were eyes that agreed with you.

Sigyn's looks were enviable. She would be the talk of the land if she happened to make an appearance. Women would beg at her feet for just a small share of her beauty. Men would grab hungrily at her shoulders, legs, breasts; she was irresistible to all.

And who would be suitable for such a stunning woman? Would it be a king of all the lands? A man with broad shoulders, square jaw and a rippling aura about him? Or perhaps, if she so chose, a petite woman with large hips and golden hair thrown over her shoulder?

For Sigyn, her partner was similar to her: Tall, lithe, elvish of face, and shockingly beautiful. They shared many qualities, both physical and spiritual. However, he was more elevated in the tricky side of it all; he was, of course, the greatest prankster to have ever lived.

He was Loki Laufeyson, the God of Mischief. And with his seemingly evil hands, he lay them upon her cheek with the lightest touch and let out the softest breath. He would build and destroy things with the very same hands, but with Sigyn, he treated her like gold.

She was his wife, and he was her husband. They were united by a unique bond neither of them had experienced prior to their relationship, and it was rather impressive. She kept him safe from harm in trying situations. He protected her from the evils of the outside world. Even when he was away, Loki ensured her safety. A cat couldn't even glance her way without Loki noticing.

So, surely, Sigyn would be safe, at all costs. Would she not?

It was often Loki found himself trapped within his own study, up to his eyes in books about new spells to keep away intruders, new magical back-up plants to the back-up plans of the back-up plans, if the back-up to the back-up of the back-up to the back-up didn't work well enough.

It was also often he questioned himself for being so precarious. Did Sigyn feel crushed beneath Loki's protection? Did she ever feel isolated and alone?

Fortunately for him, the answer was no. Even though his safe-guarding put a damper on Sigyn's life, she actually had quite the amount of free-range around Asgard.

She could be seen strolling the gardens and conversing with the beautiful children. Sometimes, if an on-looker was lucky, she could be found painting and singing in the small garden over-looking a crystal lake behind the wooden house Loki had built for her. She was safe and happy.

Sigyn's day began early; she woke with the light of the morning. There were days Loki would rise beside her, and days he wouldn't even be present in Asgard. When he did happen to be there, they would sit together in silence at a crooked wooden table and eat pastries for their first meal of the day.

Afterwards, Sigyn would bathe in the light outside; she would wear a loose-fitting purple gown that washed over her like water; and, Loki would rest beside her, eyes feasting upon her beauty.

They enjoyed talking with one another. Sigyn would share tales of her childhood or stories she'd heard from the women around the towns; Loki would illustrate beautiful stories of his endeavors. He'd use his hands a lot when he spoke to her; he'd shoot them in the air to describe a flying beast, or he'd shoot them quickly forward to elucidate some sort of magical spell he'd cast. Sigyn loved hearing his stories.

Later in the day they would stroll through Asgard together, until they would eventually part and the two would continue their lives as if they didn't know each other.

Sigyn would make her way to the grand library and read in solitude with Loki's adopted mother, Frigga. Loki would find a god to torment and have his fun.

Sigyn was a happy woman. She was devoted to her husband, and was ready to sacrifice herself for him if the situation presented itself. But, until then, she would continue to live her life and expand her knowledge of the nine realms.


	2. Chapter 2

In the depths of his library, Loki studied complicated spells and illusions. Before him was a scrap of parchment and a quill that looked as if it were ready to fall apart. His hand was aching, and his mind was tired of the intense studying he never seemed to quit doing. Loki lived a rather lackluster life and he was growing tired of it.

Loki was bitter towards most things. He disliked the Asgardians to no end, and he especially disliked the man he'd once called father. It wasn't exciting stewing in contempt in his surroundings; Loki often found himself stirring up some sort of drama to cool his steaming boredom, but even then, whatever disaster he'd caused didn't leave much excitement in its wake.

"What has become of myself?" he spat bitterly. "I am nothing but a paper weight."

"Not entirely true," an amused voice said; Loki lifted his head slowly. Approaching was his adopted brother, Thor Odinson. There was a time Loki's expression would have softened into sibling love, but it stayed hardened - perhaps, harder than stone.

"Thor," Loki nodded his head cordially and choked, "Nice to see you."

"You too, brother," Thor smiled a brilliant, gleaming smile. His eyebrow lifted and his eyes wrinkled. Thor – not very quietly – approached Loki with valor. On his face he held an expression of triumph and excitement. Loki sighed inwardly and trembled with the excitement he didn't have to hear whatever it was his brother had done.

Loki straightened the papers he'd been so diligently working on. Hastily, he slammed his spell books shut and slid them away on the lonely table he'd been sitting at. Very slowly, he breathed, and ask Thor, "What have you done now?"

"We've won yet another battle, my brother. Triumphant, as always."

"And what battle was that?" Loki inquired, rather curiously. It was quite difficult to keep track of Thor's adventures those days; it seemed he were hardly ever home, as he was always "keeping the peace" between the nine realms.

"Light elves. A slight quarrel in a village that could have turned out to be disastrous."

_And, so, there it is_, Loki thought_. Always like him to exaggerate his quests_.

"That's nice, Thor," Loki groaned. "I'm glad you were able to settle such an extreme dispute." 

"I did!" Thor smiled. He gazed at Loki for a moment, before his gaze shifted towards the books Loki had been reading.

"What have you here?" He said quietly. He removed a chair from a different table across from Loki and slid it beneath his rump. Thor grasped the top book firmly and nearly slammed it on the table's surface so hard, Loki's parchment almost went soaring into the air, and would have been disorganized; much like Loki's head at that moment.

"Magic things," Loki growled. He leaned back in the wooden chair and crossed his arms. "Not that it would interest you, you're more into swords and women and drinking."

"Again, not entirely true," Thor chuckled quietly. "I do enjoy the occasional curse. They're always fun to learn about, aren't they?"

"You could say that," Loki sneered. "They're especially fun to learn about when you plan on casting one on your brother."

"Is that so?" Thor slapped the book shut and placed it atop the pile once more. A smile spread quickly across his lips and his eyebrows lifted. "Let's see what you've got today, then."

"No," Loki chuckled and looked towards the ground. He could feel Thor's eyes burning into him, and it made him feel uncomfortable. Was it a friendly challenge? Or was it something much more sinister? Loki didn't know why Thor would actually ask a curse be inflicted upon him, for Loki was merely jesting when he'd spoken.

"Leave," Loki waved his hand delicately above the table. "I have work to do."

"Your loss," Thor's eyebrow raised humorously. "Come visit me later. We have catching up to do, horses to ride, people to harass. I know you enjoy harassment."

"Slightly," Loki's chest expanded with a deep breath. "I'll consider it. Again, I ask you kindly to leave. I really do have things to accomplish today."

"Alright, alright!" Thor's lips curved in a smile, and he rose. "I expect to see you later. Farewell!"

Loki's jaw tightened. He watched as Thor strode heavily through the hall, cape billowing behind him. And then, with a flash of silver and red, he disappeared through the large oaken doors and was gone. Loki's shoulders sank and his eyes began to throb. The books in front of him seemed too intimidating to even consider opening, so he simply gave up on the craft and began a new one: art.

Loki had a leather book filled with charcoal sketches of various things: his wife, his brother, his mother, flowers, trees, the library, fountains, and various animals; however, there were no sketches of himself. Loki avoided any sort of self-portrait, much to his wife's dismay. She told him every morning she rose and every evening she lay to rest he was handsome, beautiful, or charming. She told him his looks were unlike any other; he was gifted. She believed he was truly a masterpiece. No matter how much she whispered it in his ear or touched his face with her delicate hands and spoke, "You are the most handsome, Loki," he would not believe her. And so, he avoided the task of even sculpting his face on the paper.

"Irrelevant," Loki grumbled quietly underneath his breath. He untied the book and released the pages before him. In his hands, he held a single bit of charcoal, and off he went, with the only image in his mind: a golden throne.


End file.
